Young Writers and Artists Space

Mums and Dads, Aunties, Uncles, brothers, sisters, teachers, youth workers please get in touch if you have creative children or young people in your lives. WE CAN FEATURE THEIR WORK HERE. HOWEVER IT MUST BE THEIR WORK. IF THEY CAN’T WRITE YOU CAN TRANSCRIBE.

There was a little bird, It sat without a word, Perched upon a tree, Quiet as could be.

“Sing with us, please!” other birds would cry, But it kept silent, as days went by. “You don’t know how to sing!” they assumed and they mocked. The bird gave no answer, so they laughed and they talked.

“Fly with us, please!” other birds would shout, Still in its nest, it wouldn’t go out. “You don’t know how to fly!” they exclaimed in disgust. “Then why are you a bird, if you aren’t like us?

One day, the bird flew up in the air, No one watching, the world unaware, Landed on a tree with dangerous pricks, The sharpest thorn, did the bird strive to pick.

A beautiful sound, there was nothing quite like it, Rang through the forest, the creatures astounded. They gathered around, as the cry of pain ceased, With wings ripped apart the bird hung in a tree.

Celina Chen, 15

Friend

There is a girl I knew, I called her my best friend.

There for her til the end, My love for her is true.

I don’t know what to do, Or how to feel and act,

For we don’t interact, As much as I want to.

I miss those sunny days, When we would laugh and smile.

We’d sit and talk awhile, At stars we would both gaze.

But now that summer’s gone,

She’s disappeared as well, With stories left to tell,

How shall I carry on?

Celina Chen, 15

Sunflower

i am a sunflower facing the sun

trying to look on the bright side

but do not be fooled by the happy yellow petals

for if you pluck them off you are left

with a dreary dark center

Celina Chen, 15

Ode to Isolation

Cold and silent.

I sit in the dark.

I wait for something to happen.

Maybe someday

I’ll get outside

And enjoy the fresh air.

Days and nights, days and nights.

Gray filled room.

Kept from stress.

I sit there.

I don’t do work.

Because my mental health is flimsy.

I hide in my closet.

Dark as can be.

Nobody can hurt me,

Scare me,

Or make me cry.

I am content.

There is nothing.

A nothing filled room.

Under my blanket,

I am there.

Warm and comfy.

Isolated.

Could anybody;

Anybody, anywhere

Get me out of my small,

Cold,

And dark world?

I say no.

Too many noises.

Too many outside.

I like to shut my doors,

And unwind with music,

To drowned out the noise

Inside my brain.

People tell me

“The real world better”.

But what is better

Than what I have?

A nothing filled room.

A cold,

Small,

Dark,

Grey,

Nothing filled room.

I am not mistaken one.

I am content.

I sit in the dark.

Cold and silent.

Mandy Renner, aged 11

Poetry on community from Philip Rogers Elementary School, Chicago, USA.

Sent in by Joris Soeding , 7th/8th grade Social Studies Teacher.

Life

In communities happiness rings,

sadness hides underneath,

living, dying

sirens ringing,

smell of food.

Families brimming with life

until the day, their time has come

out of the world elsewhere.

Sadness can overpower

leaving people without power

until the day they give up

let the darkness flow over them and take over.

Then comes the end to a day.

Goodbye to all.

Natalia Gatti

7th Grade

Life

life is like a knife

filled with lies

it has a start

and an end

but you can’t contend

your misery

in the mystery of life

if you wanna thrive in life

you got to arrive and

surprise all

and show them your alive

Juan Saenz

7th Grade

The World of Creativity

to all the creative artists

it’s not complicated

to get motivated

they might get hated but

they also get appreciated

they might get frustrated

then get underestimated.

Artists are creative and cool

many people may think they’re fools.

Yeah creative artists are the best

mostly when they don’t get rest

the power of art

Natalie Zacarias-Martinez

7th Grade

We Are Free

We have liberty

We can live as a family

We don’t have misery

We can live happily

At night the stars shine so glittery

We may become friends rapidly

If you are feeling down go to trickery

The fields are so beautifully grown

Here we are very well-known

We all have a talent we have shown

We are never alone

Here we are all in the same zone

We always have a tone

Diana Sandoval

7th Grade

The Truth

Graffiti on the walls,

trash on the floor,

violence in the air,

stories of death everywhere.

Killers walk around

corrupt cops they may be,

all around the city.

Some people may cry

for those who have died,

there may be safety nowhere

but there’s cops everywhere.

Some may be judged for height and for skin,

or for brains or bones.

Some kill, some die

some people have nowhere to hide.

sleeping on the street,

sleeping in danger, as I tell the truth.

Dexter Dang

7th Grade

Only Want To Go Home

depression is a permanent scar

but we should embrace who we are

the silence is what takes us

because we cannot bare to discuss

when life is in black and white

we begin to hold on to the little bits of light

to protect us from our self

because I’m scared of myself

we don’t feel a thing

so we begin to cling

to those who give us hope

thinking they’ll help us cope

we are the angels at the roam

who only want to go home

Jordan Wickramasekera

7th Grade

Nothingness

Smelling all the food

Hearing the diverse languages

Walking down the streets

Seeing all the homeless

Wishing I could help

But I have no money

Hearing them pray

But I feel so far away

Nothing I can do will help.

Graffiti on the walls

I try to paint them off

But everything still feels so far away

Nothing still feels the same

Nothing will help me put those thoughts away.

Hanging out with friends

Talking and chatting

Laughing away into the night

They start to leave

I try to go with them

But my feet are so cold and numb

Nothing I can do will he me get there

I give up trying and do nothing

Let the world take me away into the black void that fills my body.

Michael Samson

7th Grade

Change.

It can be so drastic; yet so small.

It can be so small; yet so hurtful or fruitful.

Change can be seasons that come and go.

Nothing stays the same.

But without change there’s no

future to look forward to.

Change can make us cry.

Change can make us laugh.

Change is life.

Change is death.

Change can be the best.

Change can be the worst.

It all depends how you decide to take it.

Estefania Camarillo

7th Grade

Change!

Walking home as I question myself

What is home?

When we’re kids, we play in the fields

The sun shining

A big grin on the face

Not realizing the lies.

Now walking home

With the rain hitting my face

Surrounded by disgust

What happened?

The sun shines

A ray of hope

If only I wish things could be the same.

Time runs by

As quick as light

Wishing I could make a change

But I can’t everyone deranged

If only someone would hear me screaming

Change!

If only a single whisper could make a change.

Noor Khan

7th Grade

My Block

Although my block is not that long

When we come together we stand strong

With all the diversity and different race

We are lucky to live in the same place

With all the different culture and foods

Sometimes it ends in feuds

Hearing all the cries and screams

From little kids to even old men

While their wives would yell and scold

But when they become deceased

There souls become released

Mariam Khan

7th Grade

Genial

What a game of chess!

No need to confess.

It was a fair game after all.

Time to recall,

What I did wrong

Does this bishop belong?

Everyone congratulates me even though I didn’t win.

My frown forms into a grin.

I drop my grocery bags as I walk across the street.

Someone runs up behind me and he’s pretty sweet.

He helps me with my bags.

We zig and zag,

Through the street

It’s like he helped me cheat!

We say our goodbyes.

It was a surprise.

People are so genial and kindhearted.

I might have been outsmarted,

By the kindness of others.

Ayla Arnautovic

7th Grade

Masks

I see masks all around

Some laugh, some smile

Some hide a frown

I see masks left and right

They try to keep what’s deep inside

Some last for a while

While others can’t keep a smile

They break without a sound

Or they break in a crowd

We look for those that we can trust

So our masks can finally bust

’Cause no one wants to wear them

But no one can discard them

The masks can destroy our heart

Or protect us from breaking apart

I wear one of these in sad times

To keep back my true feelings

I often try to keep it sound

Till my friend can break it down

Our friends can be great support

To recognize my feelings deep down

No matter strong our masks may be

A good friend will make you free

Lige Fletter

7th Grade

A Boy of Many Colors

I am a boy of many colors,

suppressed under a mask of my community with little hue,

the cracks of the mask leak little emotion,

I’m a bug in a bottle, with little scenery to view,

with a mask expressing only laughter and joy,

while inside there is sadness and coy,

with a hint of anger too,

But do not fear me, for I do not show

I am a boy of many opinions

Some splendid some agreeable

Some vile and some wicked

There’s a lot of me you don’t know, with little you will never find out,

because of a mindset of an endless puzzle

I am a boy of many colors,

I love those who are bright and dark

those who are diverse like wine stains on a white dress

And those who blend in like white paint on a blank canvas

Alex Baldauf

7th Grade

Alternate Realities

Everybody says

you need to face reality

but I live in alternate realities

At school I’m

encouraged at originality

but after that home alternates

reality because they don’t encourage

originality I become a normality

My community alternates my

personality making me thoughtful

to all alternate realities

Sahir Rahman

7th Grade

Big Home

Our community is like a big home

There are good and bad,

but all belong.

There are of all types,

people who say yes and people who say no,

the ones who think and the ones that say,

the ones that go and the ones that stay

Some may change the way you think

depending on it, it could be good, it could be bad.

It will always be your choice.

And no matter what,

all who belong,

will be part of our big home.

Lucy Garcia-Juan

7th Grade

What I Can Be

I can’t be a doctor

I’m not smart and can’t even take care of myself

I can’t be a pilot

I’m scared of heights and responsibility

I can’t be a teacher

I’m not patient and still learning

What I can be though

is the person who’s there when you need to talk

I can be the person to go to 7/11 with even if I have no money

I can be the person to rant and vent with even if I’m busy

I can be the person to play fight with even if I’m bruised and sore

I can just be your friend in this crazy stupid world

Even if I feel broken, confused, afraid, tired, crazy

I’ll still be there

Just wait and see

I’ll get up for you and me

Just wait and see

Grace Dapat

8th Grade

Living on Both Realms

I can never tell you too less or too little

About my reflected past

Two kingdoms battling different orders

Do this here, don’t do this over there

In this nation it’s essential to eat this

In this domain we never eat that

Living in reverse worlds break away who I am

Being ordered to only favor the more religious one

Being told by others about how the nation I cherish so much holds a beast

They tell me that the beast has a mouth full of fangs with a thorny red dahlia crown

I wish I was just in an isolated kingdom

One where I don’t have to hate the other

One where the streets are built off of emerald

But these nations that I’m forced to “hold close to my heart”

They once hated, despised, held grudges, and reviled each other

I made a commitment that once I grow up,

I’ll make my own kingdom

This kingdom will have citizens that won’t feel my torn past

No tales about a beast, no war, and no dummy laws

Only love, affection, and fondness

If my kingdom does depart into two one day

I promise there will be no war

Only respect and acceptance.

I do forgive them

I’m way over the war that let my spirit bleed without me knowing

All I gotta say is that they made me like this

Yes. A phoenix who turned into grey ashes

Who will one day be born to guide others into only light and not darkness.

Mikko Barrios

8th Grade

Not Enough

Not enough police

Not enough protection

Not enough peace in our communities

Not enough happy days

Not enough love to spread around

Not enough homes for everyone

Not enough for everyone to enjoy

In our generation,

many people are suffering because they don’t have everything like the others

many people can fix that

but they don’t

They think it’s NOT ENOUGH to give so they don’t

give at all

In my opinion,

I think it doesn’t matter if it’s not enough

I think people want something rather than nothing

but the one thing is that

it’s NOT ENOUGH!

Isabel Soto

8th Grade

How Am I Shaped By My Community

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

I ask myself this,

When I’m caught up in this world.

Full of magic,

Wonder and most of all,

Mystery

I wish it was real,

The world I would like to live in.

Imagine being in a castle,

in Northern Ireland,

Becoming a witch or wizard is only a dream.

Honestly, some would say it’s childish,

I disagree.

It’s a way to cope,

with the demons who live inside me.

They scream like Mandrakes,

Are dark like Dementors,

Keep me awake like Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named laughter,

They move in the shadows like Peeves,

Playing tricks on me.

Sometimes the tricks don’t get me,

They remind me of Fred and George,

Other times they’re clever like Hermione.

The world is magical,

in a wondrous way.

It’s not childish,

It’s my way.

Willa Dixon

8th Grade

A Day in The Life

Mom,

I can smell your cooking

Chiles Rellenos

stuffed peppers

Home sweet home

My nose is in heaven

Chicago,

Dystopian times

From time to time I can hear all these sirens cry

Maybe too often.

Rogers Park,

Drive-by shooting

I remember one time

Cars screeching

My friends and I were just hoopin’

My own home,

Blue and red off the wall

Keeping me awake

But now it’s normal for all

My community,

Keep me alive

Every day I hear about a tragic demise

But you help me grow

I’ve gained the courage

I am now on my own.

Jason Torres

8th Grade

How Am I a Part of My Community

Mindless chatter echo in the hall

Laughing about the latest joke

Lies and stealing loom above like a cloud

Happiness and dancing

To hide the anger

To hide the depression

Singing on the phone

To cover the silence

Happy days

Broken days

Watching from the sidelines

Trying to bring smiles and laughs

Empty words

Happy smiles

Tired Eyes

Broken minds

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah I’m fine”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes”

Lies are surrounding happiness

Dancing, singing, smiles

To hide the stress and broken soul

Amanda Blakemore

8th Grade

Little Trouble Makers

Mama’s gone to work,

We are left home alone.

Mama thinks we’re little angels

only when she’s home.

Angels we may look

but opposite we are.

My brother and I are little trouble makers,

playing video games all day long.

Matthew Samson

8th Grade

My Community

In the morning I leave the house.

Little children look at my ankles

Then stare up at me as their parent says, “hello.”

Most early mornings I walk

Through the ones that mommy says

Only read the Old Testament.

In my eyes all people are equal.

But the little ones are judgy.

One threw a rock at mommy’s car.

Walk a little further and I feel more at home.

These people may not look like me

They feel familiar.

All these people smile and wave at me,

They know my name.

Walk home and no one cares anymore

My family is the one on the block with a Christmas tree.

Ava Piemontese

8th Grade

My Broken Family

I just want it all to be over~

the yelling, the fights, and then silence.

The way my dad keeps quiet because he’s the youngest.

Don’t know if I can mention “this” name in front of “that” aunt.

Me and my cousins used to live together,

but now it’s like they moved on without us.

How we were always the ones affected by the family matters.

How my cousins from both sides used to be friends

That’s how close we

were…

How much I respected them and wished to be like them.

Now I only meet them at weddings and our conversations are just greetings

All I ask now…

Actually I don’t even know.

Do I move on or just sit there waiting for them to make the first move.

I think I’ll choose the first option.

I will focus on making the closest people around me proud.

I guess I’ll just think about the memories

and yeah, “those happy times” when I miss them…

Salwa Majeed

8th Grade

Feeling

When I walk into my school and I see the parents

leaving their kids with worried faces

I wonder

how are they feeling?

When I see teachers worrying about what they’re going to teach today

I wonder

how are they feeling?

When I see other students laughing and talking with their friends

I wonder

how are they feeling?

I’m proud to see that I at least see some sort of difference only to see those

smarter than me

more talented with me

happier than me

more than me

how am I feeling?

Is feeling just generated by our minds or is it what we want

I don’t know

how is everyone around me feeling?

Victor Chavez

8th Grade

Community Poem

My neighborhood is very enthusiastic.

Loving each other, caring for each other, and helping each other.

When seeing the people you can see their different characteristics.

The neighborhood will always remind you of your mother.

When seeing this wonderful place, you imagine accomplishing your dream.

People around you helping you along the way.

When the neighbors see you they always seem to see you gleam.

When you finish your dreams, it’s the month of May.

Neighbors giving you free things,

You can get very happy with this.

They always treat you as if you were kings.

But, you usually hear things that cling.

When the days are bad; rain usually falls.

Sitting inside waiting for the rain to stop.

In the meantime I picked up calls.

When the rain was over, I saw a cop.

The cop was admiring the neighborhood.

He seemed to be good.

This neighborhood will give you a big smile.

The smile is big as a mile.

Yasir Mohammed

8th Grade

Black, White, and Grey

I’m not 100% white

I’m not 100% black

My dad is Jamaican and Barbadian

My mom is an Irish redhead

Saying mixed is like a potion and spell waiting to be cast

Mixed with a sprinkle of black and sprinkles of white

Can’t say I’m black because I’ll feel like I’m rejecting my ancestry

Can’t say I’m white because my skin tells a different story

Can’t say words that were used during dark times because I’ll offended myself

Can’t say I’m black, can’t say I’m white

If you mix black and white, you will get grey

Not too dark, not too light

Just right

Imperfect but perfect

I’m grey

Lack the features to call me white

Disregard the features that make me black

Grey. Yeah, grey. That’s what I am

Black, White, and Grey

Kaitlyn Smith

8th Grade

Wintry Day

A peaceful evening

feelings of joy

and cheerfulness aplenty

on this nice wintry day

As far as you can see

is clean, untouched,

undisturbed snow

Snow, a beautiful sight.

The children come running

They create snowmen

and snow angels litter the area.

A naive child is frolicking around,

and now he’s being pelted with snowballs

Wait what?

Ouch, poor kid.

Moving along now.

A group of four start making a snowman

They stand accomplished

with their shovels still in their hands

Now they’re beating it to a pulp…

Wow…great, wonderful.

What’s wrong with these kids?

Don’t they know the meaning of joy?!

Do they really need this?

They have such gleeful faces

at this organized destruction…

They’re so strange.

Actually a little crazy.

I wonder why…

but I guess I’ll never know.

Josrich Viernes

8th Grade

The CTA Train

When I had left for vacation

The train had passed by

Across the street

And I hadn’t thought much of it

Until I had gotten back

We got there and during the first night

I couldn’t fall asleep

While thinking about why

I had a sudden realization

That something was missing

From there I realized a pattern

I couldn’t fall asleep

As easily as at home

And this continued until the journey back

We got a cab

And then I heard it

The thing that had been missing

The CTA train

When we finally got home

I plopped in bed

And fell asleep to the sound

Of the CTA train

Diego Ramirez

8th Grade

When Someone Says They Live in Chicago but They Really Live in Winnetka

Driving down a quiet street

Houses with more room than you would ever need

Tailored yards and picket fences

So different from the noise

So different from the traffic

So different from the life of Chicago

You stop at a big house

You try to suppress a grin

You run from the car to the arms of your everlasting friends

Their arms unmoving and faithful

You start to go inside the house

You pass just through the threshold

Into another world

You go into a house of height

With walls stretched out six feet tall

Crown molding and open floor plans

So different from the noise

So different from the traffic

So different from the life of Chicago

You and our friends decide to go explore

You follow a road to the creek a block off

Déjà vu of a trip once taken before, in the noise and traffic

You take a journey through jungle and weeds

Watching for the pythons and poison ivy and spiders sure to dwell in these parts

You get scared and you and your friends flee

With their life and a new story to tell

You go back home to the noise

You go back home to the traffic

You go back home to your life in Chicago

So different and similar to the whirlwind of adventure you have in Winnetka

Paige Meegan

8th Grade

The Poet

He was beautiful,

and I was not.

He thought I was

and so he placed me in that big heart of his.

Made room for me.

He likes to write about what he loves

I don’t know why he wrote about me.

He was intelligent

I was not.

He thought I was beautiful.

I knew I wasn’t.

So I froze him out.

“I’m sorry” was what I was supposed to say

Silence was what I gave.

One less friend

all because

He was beautiful

and I was not.

Kya Milligan

8th Grade

City Weather

When I left Chicago for Pakistan
I noticed something different
Maybe it was the heat
Or was it the people?

What was I feeling?
I became exasperated
The dry sun hit me
in waves of heat

Then came the time
to travel back
On the plane
And over the Atlantic

And as I left the airport
It hit me
The chilling sensation
of cold and winter

And the change
It ran and hid
for I did not feel it
And it bothered me longer

The below poems are from the creative writing group at St. Paul’s Middle School in Alnwick, Northumberland, in response to this year’s National Poetry Day’s theme of ‘Light’. These followed the resources produced by the Forward Arts Foundation and these poems were written during six workshops that were ran by Catherine Ayres.